Not All Roses and Raindrops
by Lina Girl
Summary: Not every story has its silk path laid out for our characters to walk on. A look at some struggles faced by the now-married Arnold and Helga Shortman.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not exactly a songfic, but based on three songs, which are then broken up into three "parts". I extended it a little after the advice of a reviewer, so if it works out well, please leave a review. :) The two other chapters will be posted eventually. Song titles can be posted upon request. Thanks!

* * *

Part 1-Llovera

Looking out the window just darkened her already sullen mood as tears slipped from her eyes onto the drapes. Outside, drop after drop fell from the graying clouds, the sun appearing to struggle beneath the clouds before being consumed by the rain. Almost in defeat, she rested her head against the glass, breathing quietly.

The invasive touches her new supervisor had put on her today still lingered on her skin like smoke; they weren't quite touching her, but they still existed and swept over her. She opened her eyes so she could stare at the sky above her, instead of continuing to picture his smirk as he had brushed his hand against her breast before quickly moving his hand away. For others, it would have almost looked like an accident. She knew it was intentional in every way possible.

The comments he made, the derogatory statements, the invading glances, and the greasy attitude toward anything she carried on herself was taking a toll on both her performance at work, and her attitude towards her husband at home. She fantasized about reporting creep. They would take him away in handcuffs, everyone's eyes wide with shock as their new prized employee was charged with sexual harassment. And there she would be, smirking at him from across the room as they took him away. The bubble popped when she realized what had happened to the last woman who attempted to report harassment. She was fired when the majority-men population at her job didn't believe her, claiming she was looking for a lawsuit to get money.

She knew Arnold wasn't responsible for the actions of men as a whole, but in the back of her mind, she felt that marriage had somehow weakened her strong and fierce attitude once she had changed from Helga Pataki to Helga "Arnold's wife" Shortman. Ten years ago, she would have punched the creep in the face with Ol Betsy and essentially beat the shit out of him. Now, she wasn't even sure she would report him. She knew she couldn't possibly tell her husband. A year ago she would have known exactly what course of action Arnold would have taken. Today, she wasn't even sure what Arnold wanted for dinner. She couldn't deny that she had gradually changed, once she had married. Sometimes, if she didn't stop herself, she would look at Arnold with resentment in her eyes. More recently, he had begun to look at her the same way.

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes. Her left hand suddenly felt a little heavier.

* * *

Her husband was in the bedroom, in an equally depressed mood. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his tired eyes rest on the rain that fell on the other side of the glass, some of it catching onto the window and sliding down before pooling on the sill. His hands lay clasped on his lap while small tears dripped onto them, falling onto his fingers.

Their argument had begun almost a week ago, and hadn't gone away. The more time they spent apart, the more bitter they became as each struggled to add more hours onto their already overpowering shifts at their respective jobs. Flower orders kept pouring in as the damp weather kept the flowers of Hilwood fresh and springing with life, creating an environment of stress at the flower shop that Arnold managed almost alone now. His other two employees took off weeks ago for vacation, leaving him with the responsibility of single-handedly running the store. As the clouds kept coming and coming, so did more weddings and funerals and birthday parties and graduations that never seemed to end. No matter how many more hours he put in, he still didn't feel like the wave of orders had become any more manageable. He honestly wished things would let up for him, at least for a little while.

On top of the stressful weeks at work, Helga never seemed to ask him how his day was going anymore. She never offered help when she walked by him, his entire desk covered in papers filled with orders due the next day or the next week or the next month. She only looked off distantly, as if her eyes were glazed over with something else. He figured she must have something enormous going on at work that he couldn't be a part of, because one day when he asked, she shut down.

"Nothing is going on at work. It's this big project that I really need to concentrate on. I'd appreciate it if you didn't meddle into it because I can't lose focus of it or I'll lose my job."

And that was it.

He'd taken a step back from her after her answer, and merely nodded his head, walking back to the mountain of orders waiting for him. He hadn't felt like asking her again after that.

And then there was the resentment in her eyes. Something he couldn't shake off.

He'd noticed it one day when he was about to turn out the light for bed. As he looked over at her to see if she was asleep, his eyes were met with her large blue eyes looking at him with blame. And then it was gone. She smiled, said goodnight, and went to sleep, drawing the covers up to her shoulder. The snapped response he could take, but the blame in her eyes? He couldn't figure out how to reenter her world again without being pushed back out. He wanted to know what it was he had done to make her look at him like that. But he knew if he was going to receive an answer as cryptic as her response to what was going on, he didn't want to fight. It wasn't long before he realized he was looking at her the same away.

He let his head drop into his hands, the tears slowly pooling into his hands.

As they both stayed in their own self-made corners of the apartment, the rain continued to patter against their home above the flower shop. Some roses on the window sill were slowly leaning forward with the force of the raindrops.


	2. Part 2: Heart of Stone

A/N: Part 2, "Heart of Stone". It was really hard writing the arguments because of what was said, so I would love feedback on dialogue for improvement. Otherwise, I'm looking forward to writing the final part. Not sure about what will result yet, but I want good things :) Anyway, leave a review if you like. Thank you!

* * *

Part 2-Heart of Stone

Another week had gone by. Another week meant a lot of things to the both of them.

For Arnold, it meant another week of stressful orders and upset customers changing their minds about what they had wanted. It wasn't a dog made of roses anymore. No, now it was a smiling daisy created with tiny buds. They didn't want a large circle of daisies; they preferred a larger cross made with tulips. When he finally closed up the shop at 11 the night before, his mind had been swimming with names and lists and the scents of hundreds of different flowers. He might have been a little happier, it being Saturday and Sunday being his day off, but it didn't mean orders wouldn't be waiting for him when he got back on Monday. It was making him angrier and sadder.

For Helga, it meant another week of silent catcalls and whispered comments on her behind, something she'd tried to cover by wearing longer shirts or sweaters. If he reached for her, she would walk away quickly and look straight ahead. His smile still followed her after she walked into another room. She hated being alone in the offices now. The trouble was that most of her coworkers were men, except for the cleaning lady who came every day after lock up. She only saw her for a minute or two as she unloaded her mop and broom and other cleaning supplies. Sometimes Helga wished she could talk to her, to tell her what was going on, at least to have someone to share it with. But she never did.

When Arnold got home that night, Helga was already sleeping. Her hair was strewn over the sheets and her hands clutched at the blankets tightly, as if she were afraid she would fall off the bed if she didn't hang on. Weeks ago the sight would have been comforting to him, but tonight it just made him feel more tired. He slipped off his clothes and walked to the shower to get the dirt from the day out of his hair and off his skin.

In the other room, Helga whimpered softly and shifted her position, shaking her head so that he would go away. She moved and ran and cried but he kept following her, reaching his hands to touch her everywhere she didn't want to be touched. Like all nightmares, she tripped and fell into a large hole. When she stood up, there he was, smiling as he walked towards her, knowing she couldn't escape.

When Arnold heard her scream as he was pulling on his shirt, he closed his eyes and continued getting dressed for bed. Her screams had been going on for a month now and the more he tried to comfort her and ask her what was wrong, the more she fought. When one day she told him to "fuck off", that she was "fucking okay", he stopped asking. When she pushed him away after he had tried to hug her, he stopped checking on her when she screamed. He knew she needed help. But he also knew Helga wouldn't go for any of it, no matter what he did.

Eventually the scream went away, and Arnold slid into bed next to her. He had the urge to hold her hand, or hold her in his arms. He didn't know where that urge had come from, seeing as they hadn't had sex in a month. He saw her hand resting on her hip, still grasping at the blanket. He reached to hold her hand when she suddenly moved it back next to her face, whimpering softly. Sighing, he turned around to face the opposite wall and closed his eyes, his mind wandering back to orders.

The next day was their day off. However, when Arnold woke up, Helga was already out of bed, having just slipped into a pair of jeans and a pink t shirt. She called out a good morning to him before walking out of the bedroom. He sighed and murmured a "good fucking morning" before settling back into bed. Suddenly, she walked back into the room, and he could feel a negative attitude almost immediately.

"Did you forget Gerald and Phoebe are coming over today with Jackson? We have to get breakfast ready." She placed her hands on her hips and almost scowled at him. Honestly, Arnold had forgotten, his best friend's visit being the last thing on his mind after the terrible week before him. Sighing, he murmured an "okay" and got up, walking to his drawer to get dressed. Scoffing, Helga walked back out and to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.

An hour later, the five of them were sitting around the tiny kitchen table, Jackson bouncing on Gerald's lap as he fed him another spoonful of apple sauce. Arnold was in the kitchen heating up another few slices of toast while Phoebe talked to Helga.

"You wouldn't believe what kinds of things can happen at an Aerospace camp for kids, but everything that could have possibly gone wrong did," Phoebe laughed. Helga smiled at her best friend, nodding her sympathy. She knew during the summers the space camp that Phoebe ran for children was one of the most populated and signed-up for events of the summer, but that it was also a stressful event to run.

"Thank goodness you have Gerald to help keep things afloat, huh?" Helga asked, looking over at her best friend's husband. Phoebe smiled at Gerald for a moment, and was returned with a bigger smile.

"Yea, thank goodness I have Gerald. How has work been going for you?" Phoebe asked, moving to hold Jackson on her lap. Helga's eyes suddenly fixed on Jackson's red shirt, and she clenched her fists under the table. Trying not to grit her teeth, Helga stared at Jackson's shirt as she spoke.

"It's been fine, as busy as ever. Lots of cases to file," she said simply as she stood up to get a glass of water. Arnold had been listening from the kitchen, aware that Helga had answered the same question he had been asking her for weeks and could never get a response. This time she had added another adjective; busy.

"Are more people coming in with different issues?" Phoebe asked as she wiped some sauce from Jackson's cheek. Helga wished that Phoebe would look at her as she asked her questions. She wished someone would look at her.

"Mhm, every day there's some new nut job asking for a divorce or restraining order or to file a complaint or something. This town's been getting so many new people, bad things come with them," Helga took her glass and filled it, her arm brushing against Arnold's as he moved back to the table with the toast. She shrunk away from him and leaned away when she walked to the table too. He noticed.

"Nut jobs? What do you mean?" Gerald asked as he searched the baby bag for a bottle.

"Yea Helga, what do you mean by nut jobs?" Arnold suddenly asked from where he stood next to Gerald. His eyes looked at Helga accusingly, as if angry that she had shared more with their two friends than she had with him over the course of weeks. Helga looked at him dead in the eyes, her fists quavering under the table as she tried to maintain her composure.

"Just your average people, Arnold. People who walk in with problems like anyone else that need legal stuff taken care of." Her eyes were hard and menacing as they looked at him, and he could see that her jaw was set. His teeth clenched, and he simply nodded his head, taking the butter tray back into the kitchen. Gerald and Phoebe shared an uncomfortable glance, when suddenly Jackson began to cry. Quickly, Phoebe stood up and rocked the infant in her arms as Gerald looked worriedly at his son.

"I think he might need a change. Helga, do you mind if I move to the bedroom to change him?" Phoebe asked, still chandelling the baby.

"No please, our house is your house. As long as you spray some air freshener afterwards," Helga joked, moving to let Phoebe through. Phoebe gave her a knowing look as she walked by, Gerald behind her with the baby bag. When they were out of the room, Helga threw a sharp look at Arnold, who was clearing the rest of the plates. When he looked back at the table to double check for a spoon, he caught it.

"What?" he asked, turning his back to her.

"Nothing, Arnold," she replied and looked away from him to the wall. Before she could sigh in anger, he spoke again.

"Helga, what is your problem? You haven't talked to me in weeks, you've avoided all of my questions, hell, you've pushed me away when I've tried to comfort you! But suddenly it's okay to talk about what's going on at work when Phoebe and Gerald come over?" his eyes became cold as he set the dishes down. She turned around and her eyes seemed as if they were burning with rage.

"What do you want me to say, Arnold? You want me to blow them off like I'm blowing you off? They are in our apartment to enjoy themselves and to catch up with us. If Phoebe asks me something, I'm going to give her an answer."

"Answers that you couldn't give to me when I asked? Maybe I should just be happy you're talking at all. I ask and hug you and beg and plead, for you to shove me away and tell me to fuck off. Talk to Phoebe then. If you can't even talk to your own damn husband…"

"My own damn husband can't understand what work I do and what goes on there. Why should I tell you anything when you have your own fucking problems to deal with," she hissed back, livid with anger.

Arnold was about to respond when Gerald walked back into the room, a small plastic bag in his hand.

"Thanks again for inviting us, but Phoebe and I have to get going. Jackson's still restless and I think he needs a nap anyway," Gerald said as Phoebe joined his side, a whimpering Jackson moving in her arms.

"Yea no problem. Thanks for coming by. Call us when it's our turn to come over to your place," Arnold said, shaking Gerald's hand. Helga gave Phoebe a small hug that Phoebe returned, and soon Gerald, Phoebe, and Jackson were out the door and walking to their car. As soon as the door closed behind them, Helga stomped away to the bedroom, dismissing Arnold.

"Thanks a fucking lot, Arnold, for deciding to pick a fight that would scare them away," she said bitterly, moving past him. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and spun her so that she was facing him.

"Helga, will you please tell me what the hell is going on?" he said angrily, his eyes burning into hers. She was frozen for a moment before shaking his arm off and walking away. Once again, he caught up to her and grabbed her arm again.

"Helga, can you stop pushing me away for one second and fucking tell me what's wrong!" his eyes locked into hers as he waited for an answer.

"Dammit Arnold leave me alone! I don't NEED to tell you anything! You're not my confident, you're not my best friend, you're not someone I'm going to tell anything to!" she yelled at him and strained to get her arm back, but he only held on tighter.

"Then what am I to you, Helga? What does that little ring on your left hand mean? Why am I still here grabbing your arm and begging you to tell me why you look at me like I ruined your life-"

"Because you did!" she yelled. His hand froze on her arm as he took in her words. Before he could say anything, she continued.

"You made me weak! You are the reason I can't stand up for myself anymore! You are the reason I'm always tired, why we have bills to pay, why I can't buy myself nice anymore, why I don't feel like I can talk to anyone else, why when I get hit on at work and my ass grabbed and my tits squeezed I don't do anything about it! Marrying you made me weak, and I blame you every day for that!" she yelled. Arnold's arm dropped as quickly as he'd grabbed her, and he stepped back in shock. He felt as if his entire body had gone limp, as if he would fall over right now if not for his feet. With Helga in tears, she walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.

The slam seemed to have woken him up as he suddenly shook his head and ran for the door, yanking it open to see Helga curled up on the floor, sobbing. Before he could think, he ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled Helga onto his lap and cradled her in his arms as she cried, and this time she didn't let go. She didn't push him away; she only cried harder, burying her face into his warm body and clinging to him as if he were the only life she had left. He buried his face into her hair and sobbed with her, shaking with every breath he took. He held onto her as if she were the only life he had left.


End file.
